Her Medieval Guardian Angel
by DigimonDragongirl
Summary: Short story about Mulder and Scully chasing a crased killer into the woods, where Scully is saved by something strange.


Her Medieval Guardian Angel

By Shelli-Jo Yvonne Pelletier

***************

Disclaimer: I have no claim on any of Chris Carter's characters. Really! ^_^

***************

As the fiery sun broke over the faraway purple mountains life stirred in the forest below. Because the trees cowered in the shadow of the majestic hills each sunrise burst upon the woodland creatures in an explosion of light and heat. The birds began their lazy chirping, risen by the rays of light, and everywhere animals greeted the morning in their own ways. The squirrels unwrapped their bushy tails from around their tiny bodies; the porcupines started stripping the bark from the trees they had slept in; the deer parted from their glens, heading for the closest stream.

One such woken creature cracked open an eye as blue as the distant sky to survey the treed area spreading before him with fond love. It was his forest, his to protect, every plant and animal in it. The creature eased the other eyelid up leisurely. It was the morning routine, to greet each day with a quick flight to get the blood flowing and search the ground for danger.

But first he must get his scaly hide up and out. He chuckled dryly as his long sinuous body stretched enough to hear the bones cracking. Was it just him, or did he seem to be aging much to quickly? The thought sobered him unintentionally. It was not just him. The Old Magic was fading fast from the land, and every creature part of that Old Magic felt and knew it. He should not even be here. He should have left long ago, to follow the rest of his kind. But the young and strong are also the young and foolish. And when he was old enough to understand he irrationally thought a single creature could defy the unjust future. No single creature could defy the future, not alone. He had only seen another of his kind once, because they had all left before he hatched. But did they? There must be more of his kind out there . . . somewhere.

It was his own fault, really. A messenger had come one day to inform him what had happened to his kind, to invite him to join his race to where they had fled after the humans had forced them to leave the world that had been their home. She had been beautiful. He could have flown the skies with her from sunrise to dusk. But youthful pride had won out. He had already made the forest his home when she found him, and he would not leave it with no one to protect it from the dangers of the world. She had shaken her head sadly and left the world that hated their kind, and he had never seen another again.

Ah, but the day was too bright and beautiful to think such thoughts, and it was an old wound anyway. He would not leave; it was that simple, that plain. He had a forest to protect, after all. The creature rose, five talons on each of four feet skittering across the rock ground as he trotted out of his mountain grotto. Once past the overhang the sun hit his back like an old friend. He smiled in pure content and allowed the leathery wings usually kept folded at his side to unfurl and drink in the morning sunlight as the deer drank water below him. The deer, yes. He must make his rounds.

With a half-roar half-hiss of pleasure he launched himself off the mountain prisephis that ended at the entrance of his cave. It was bliss to feel the wind rushing past his thin body as he plummeted downward, then to have it catch as he snapped open his wings. The leathery skin stretched between the jointed wing-bones absorbed most of the impact, sending only a slight jar through his light frame. He was still fairly young after all, even with his vast developed knowledge of the ways of life. Barely two hundred years, if he remembered correctly. His kind didn't pay much attention to rotation of the sun.

Dragons didn't meet their full maturity before three hundred years.

Then he would grow. Yes. Could that be his problem? Did he hide here on this world, afraid to face his kind, because of his small stature? True, he thought as a sudden gust of wind shot him up straight into the open blue, that his kind stayed small until they matured, then growing to the great sizes they were so known for. And true, he was small even for his age. But would he hide on this danger-filled world, waiting for his growth, because he couldn't face them?

He had found no answer to his dilemma as he dropped lower in the sky to circle his forest a few times as he did each morning. The animals below saw his shadow pass over them and bowed a brief greeting as he flew by. There was much distance to cover to include the entire forest, but he did not mind in the least. It was his forest and he took much pride in the protection of it. The problem of his cowardice still weighed heavy on his mind as he scanned the trees and glades below him. Nothing was wrong. All went about their business as they always did. He reveled in the peace and serenity that flowed up from below and over him. This was his home. This was where he belonged, alone or not. His kind--

A flash of red below banished all his thoughts save the important ones. That red was brighter than any squirrel's, redder than any deer's, too coppery to be of the cardinal. He knew each and every color of his forest and this one didn't belong.

He dropped lower, instinctively pulling a thread of the Old Magic from the air to wrap around himself if the need arose. His dragon sight saw clearer than any eagle's. And what he saw and recognized sent a burning wave of fury to his heart and the flames rose to fill his throat and eyes.

A human. A human dare come here, to his woods? His first thought was to dive and flame her until nothing was left but a chard cinder of flesh, nothing but the remainder of life. That would teach the humans to violate _his_ sanctuary. He even pulled back his wings a bit, to dive, and dropped lower to the trees. If nothing else he would scare her to death, the full glory of a enraged dragon falling on her from the sky. That would send her running for her human communities and solid black rivers that cut through all the land like claws ripping flesh.

The thought that saved him from making a grave mistake was the sudden image of his fall upon her from the blue heavens. She might not run in fear; she might slay him outright. Humans never used to let their females slay, but who knows how they could have changed in the past hundreds of years? He was no expert on their behavior, that was for sure. Best to wait and watch and bide his time.

It was obviously apparent the flame-haired human was running already. Surely not from him? She hadn't even looked up, and he made sure to put her between him and the sun so no shadow would fall in her path and give him away. To ensure from future possible sightings he gave the thread of Old Magic a tug, wrapping himself and letting the morning sunlight fall through him. She could look up now. Her gaze would pass right through him, all she would see was sky. And no shadow of his would touch the ground until the spell was removed.

The new invisibility gave him cover to drop still lower. He was almost skimming the tops of the highest trees now, sky blue eyes fastened on the flame-haired one. She was chasing something, he realized. And though he wasn't wise in the ways of humans, he could guess what the black object was that she gripped in her hand. They may have changed, but any dragon could tell a human weapon when he saw it.

There was no trouble keeping up with her. A human running was nothing compared to a dragon in flight. A few flaps of his wings shot him ahead enough to see what she chased. A male human. He was long-limbed with white-gold hair and the hardest black eyes he had ever seen. Those eyes held no fire, only the cold flint of evil. He ran, almost looking as if he enjoyed the chase. Why?

He curved his snake-like neck around to look behind him and focus his attention to the female again. Her blue eyes held only determination and anger. No evil, no need to kill like some mad demon. Could the old tales and stories be false? Could there be valiant and true humans out there as well as the evil slayers? He wondered vaguely if he was the first dragon to be presented with such an instance of a just human being.

He needed to know more. What he planned was dangerous. If humans had learned to sense magic they would know he was there, but he had to try. He needed to know the truth. Grabbing a cluster of threads of the Old Magic, he sent them shooting out again to blanket this area of the forest. They rained down like tiny invisible nets, shining like rainbows for his eyes only. The animals who felt them land around them knew something was wrong and fled. They ran quickly, but without fear, certain their protector wouldn't fail them. Their trust gave him the courage to do what he was sure no dragon had ever done before.

He forced his mind down along the threads, following them to the male ahead. Best to get the worst over with. Only hesitating briefly, he plunged downward as the human ran through his thread. Then he was inside--

_Bitch thinks she can catch me, she doesn't know a forest like I do. In a minute I'll just slip around a tree or into a ditch and I can. . . . _The coherent thought faded and images came instead. Pictures painted red with her blood. Screams. Pain. The thoughts made him feel good. He would teach her. He would make her suffer, slowly. He would—

He pulled back in a wave of revulsion, wanting to vomit flames to rid himself of the feelings and images. Shame welled in him as he remembered he had not been so different a moment ago. The thought made him physically sick and his wing-beats faltered before he could gain control of himself. That . . . _creature _was everything he imagined a human would be and more. The tales spoke some truth, at least. 

Below the surface thoughts of the human's mind he could see recent memories. He sifted through them like so much sand, wary of any more corruption. The male human liked hurting females. It made him big and strong when he could make blood flow from them and hear the tortured sounds come from their lips. He got them where he could. Age and looks and past didn't matter. As long as they were his to control, his to hurt when he liked.

Then they had come to stop him. Come to put him where he couldn't get his hands on females anymore. Her and him. Another male. They had found his home, the room where he kept them when he got them. He had ran. Ran out the back before they could break down the door and away to the woods. Ran for so long he wasn't in his woods anymore. It was some wild place where a couple of deer only watched as he ran by, didn't flee. Didn't matter though, they were feds. They wouldn't know woods like he did. And he separated them. Now he could have the little bitch all the himself . . . .

A shudder rippled under his scales as he pulled back again. He had almost slipped back into the mind of the human. That was the danger of mindviewing. A dragon actually started thinking like the mind he was viewing. If one was not careful one's mind became the monster's. He knew the tales, it had happened long ago.

One of the memories seemed important. Her and him. Yes, there was a third human. He had separated them, but where? He pushed his mind out along the threads that touched the ground. If he was close he could be found.

There. Another mind, ahead and arrowing straight for the evil one head-on. He flapped again, gained altitude. Now he could see him. Tall and brown-haired, with hazel eyes that held the fire of life . . . and something else. Past pain. Pain, and no evil. There was another then? Another with no need to kill. And another weapon was clutched in his human hand. A gun. The name came from the monster's mind. It was something he liked to use on the females after they had lost his interest.

The male couldn't see the monster yet. His forest was a large and healthy one, and hid the humans' sight more than he had first realized. It was a challenging game to chase the monster full speed and keep him in sight in a strange place. But he would be seeing him soon enough. He couldn't know the monster was almost upon him. He could see everything from a dragon's-eye-view. The female was chasing the monster right into the male. Would he see the monster first? Or the other way around?

The monster made the decision for them. He veered away from the straight on collision, almost as if he knew what was waiting for him ahead. The male had stopped, to wait for him presumably, but he never came. Instead the evil one was leading the female in a wide arch around the male. How could he know?

It didn't matter. Wait. That was right. It didn't matter. This was a human affair. Why was he interfering? These humans had chased this monster into his woods to catch him; they would all leave when the chase was over. He had no concern in what happened to these humans. They were humans, after all. They had slain his kind for generations, until they had to flee in the Great Crossing, for no reason at all. His kind had never taken a human life until the first dragon was murdered in cold blood. He hadn't been born then, but everyone knew the tale of the First Death. It was Lore, like so many of their tales.

But he _was_ concerned. Why? Because the female showed him that not all humans were as savage as they once were? Because he knew how evil the monster's mind was? Because he had seen their fear and pain in his memory, and heard their cries, and enjoyed it for a sickening moment? It didn't matter. He was concerned now. It was his forest, his to protect, every plant and animal in it. That included the humans that were in it. He hovered, uncertain. Did it? He was so sure for a moment, but the doubt was back. Could a dragon make peace with an enemy as old as time? Did he dare?

He couldn't decide. Not yet. Not after all the years and deaths. So he did the only thing he could do. The dangerous thing. He sent his mind down the rainbow threads of Old Magic again, aiming for the female. Then she passed under his thread and he was inside--

_I'm going to get you, you bastard. And you're going to pay for each and every life you destroyed._ The same revulsion that ran in him ran in her, revulsion that was old and new at the same time. She had seen, felt, experienced his kind before. She knew his ways and thoughts. But she never got used to it. Prayed she never did. Feared that if she did, she would be the one who became less than human.

She was out of breath and fire played up her side, but she didn't slow. Didn't even consider it. She was going to get this bastard if it was with her final breath. Where was he? He was out of sight again. The greenery rustled all around her. The gun felt heavy in her hand. She slowed, her aching body thanked her, finally stopped to lean against a thick tree trunk. _No, dammit. I can't lose him now. _She strained her ears, couldn't hear anything but the wind. Not even any animal sounds. Couldn't see anything but green, green all around her. Where--

He dived out of the tree above her; she didn't even have time to register him before he had pinned her to the ground. Her gun flew from her fingers. She heard the thump as it hit the ground. Far away.

His black eyes bore into hers like stakes. She took a breath to yell, scream, anything, but a meaty hand pressed itself over her mouth. He smelled like old blood. It didn't make sense, he would have washed himself to get rid of any evidence. He still smelled like blood. His heavy body pushed her into the ground. She couldn't move anything, though she struggled like hell. His other hand, which had been holding her shoulder, slid down her body like the caress of the Grim Reaper. She shivered involuntarily and he smiled.

"You. Are. Mine." He whispered each word like a full sentence, lingering over them like a delicacy. His face rested inches from her own. All she could see were those death-black eyes, wanting her. Her mind froze as a ball of ice formed in her stomach. His hand continued to roam her body. She couldn't think; she couldn't breath--

There was a sparkle of silver in the bottom of her vision. His face pulled back enough so he could lift the blade of the knife to her face. Oh God--he liked blood. She braced herself for the kiss of the cold metal, but he wasn't ready yet. God, he wanted to play with her first. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as the silver blade traced the curves of her face, lingering at the corners of her eyes until she was shaking with the effort to hold her nerves.

The knife slid down her neck and rested above her clavicle. Unable to see the weapon anymore her eyes slid up to his. His manic grin at her fear echoed in those black eyes. And he leaned forward again. His eyes wanted her. The need couldn't have been seen in those soulless depths plainer than if they were written there. And she was going to scream the second his hand moved from her mouth. But it didn't. He only brushed his lips to the back of the hand, still grinning when he picked his head up again.

"We can't stay here. Your boyfriend's kicking around somewhere. But don't worry, I'll take care of him after you're settled in." His voice was low and smooth as silk, even whispering. Mulder. _Mulder, where are you?_

He shifted his weight and she felt the pressure ease off her body. Instantly she tried to move, to roll away or push him off-balance, but the pressure of the knife resting on her collarbone increased as a warned threat. The monster's face above her tilted, as if he thought of something, and he leaned over her again. "Might as well make this easy for me and your partner. We'll leave him a trail to follow." That manic grin widened as he suddenly _pushed_ all his weight on the handle of the knife.

She screamed through his hand as the knife buried itself up to its hilt in her shoulder. Her vision dimmed immediately and she felt the warm wetness spreading over her chest. Her eyes rolled back as she struggled with consciousness.

_Oh God, the pain--_

--And he shot back into his own mind so fast his skull throbbed. He was trembling so hard he couldn't fly. He alit on the highest branch of the tree he was hovering over. Lord and Lady, he had _become _the female. He had forgotten who and what he was. The female . . . He looked down. This was _the_ tree. The one that monster had jumped out of when he--

No! He couldn't let it happen. Not after feeling and thinking and _being_ her. He wouldn't. The male. Where was he? The male would help. He was . . . a knight? Maybe, but she was certainly no princess. Mulder. She called him Mulder. Cried out to him in her mind. He had to find him. No time, there was no time. There, he could feel him there. But Mulder was too far away. He was searching--frantically, he felt along the threads--for her. But he was too far away. The dragon cocked a pointed ear. He could hear the knight.

"Scully! Dammit, answer! Scully!"

No time. The monster below was dragging her away. And laughing. The bastard was laughing. There was so much blood, everywhere . . . .

He launched himself off the tree and down, throwing the Old Magic away into the wind. There was no time for magic. He would have to depend on battle to save her. He summoned his fiercest roar and loosed it upon the open air, diving at the evil one. Never mind that he was an adolescent and no bigger than a porcupine. He was a dragon, and this human was going to pay.

The monster's head snapped up at the sound, though in fear or just surprise he never knew, and dropped his load to raise his hands to his face. That was going to do him no good. Dragon fire built in his throat and exploded outward, fueled by his anger. The column of flames engulfed him, completely, and his dragon heart hammered to hear the bastard scream in pain. The dragon fire only lasted for an instant, then all vanished from him. But it was enough.

The monster stumbled away from his burden in terror, black eyes locked only on him. Another roar sent him madly fleeing for his life. He absentmindedly noticed he headed in the knight's direction. So much the better.

The female--untouched by so much as a lick of flame--lay on the forest floor. A quick flutter of his right wing sent him swooping to the ground beside her. The leaves barely whispered as he touched down above her injured shoulder, and a free strand of fire-hair swept across her pale face.

Her head lolled to the side, blue eyes glazed with so much pain he doubted she recognized him for what he was. But she tried to speak nonetheless. He could feel her gathering her fading strength and force her human lips to move. No sound at first, then a strangled, "Why?"

Human speech was by no means easy for his body, but he forced himself to focus and the sounds emerged from his long throat, soft and lilting but at least recognizable. "Our kinds . . . at war so long . . . maybe first step . . . to peace. Maybe someday . . . dragons return."

Her forehead creased in confusion from his words and she suffered from the loss of blood. The unfocused blue eyes fluttered as they lost the battle with consciousness. Alarmed, he swiftly reached for the nearest Old Magic thread to address her wound and keep her awake.

The monster hadn't removed his weapon from her body. He would have to. Rearing back to balance on his hind legs and tail, he wrapped his front talons around the handle while sending the strength of the Old Magic into her. There was too much blood. It stained the entire front of her human clothing a dark, dark red. The longer she stayed like this the more danger she was in.

"There will be . . . pain. You must stay . . . do not fall away." She set her jaw and nodded slightly. He prepared himself for the task; the knife was fully half the size of him. Before he lost the little nerve he had, he jerked the weapon with all the strength he had.

It slid out easily but not without her cry of wordless pain and the flow of new blood. Gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes shut he feared she would succumb to the darkness that pulled at her. But the Old Magic would not let it take her. It was fading from the world perhaps, but it was still an ancient and powerful force.

Her eyes opened once again, clearer and more in control. She watched warily now, as if he had attacked her and not one of her own, and tried to slide away, then gasped as pain shot through her shoulder and lay still. He snorted, sending a spiral of smoke to curl out his nostrils and making her flinch. The tales spoke true of human appreciation as well.

Rough footsteps jogging in their direction broke the tense moment and he hissed. "Your knight approaches . . . Take yourselves and leave . . . I only hope . . . you are the last . . . to break peace in my woods." He turned to fly.

"Wait . . . ." Her voice was faint, but insistent. He curled his long neck back and two pairs of blue eyes met and held. She swallowed. "Thank you." He blinked, undecided, then nodded once and leapt skyward with a pump of his wings.

That was the last Scully saw of her medieval guardian angel.

* * *

"Scully!" Mulder screamed again and again. Fear knotted his stomach and made running difficult as he struggled to keep his imagination from supplying the reason she didn't answer. Then he stopped dead and the question became moot. "Damn him! Scully!" His voice cracked on the last word. There was so much blood . . . where was his partner?

The trail led not even fifty feet away. It ended with her. "Scully!" Oh, the blood. He fought down the bile rising in his throat. Not even realizing he had been running, he found himself falling at her side. "Scully. Scully, can you hear me?"

Her blue eyes were open, but unfocused. He waved a hand frantically in front of her face. She blinked with agonizing slowness and saw him. "Scully?" he asked urgently. Her lips moved; he leaned closer.

"My knight in shining armor," she murmured softly.

"What?" She was out of it, obviously. Scully just didn't say things like that.

Suddenly she stiffened. "Him?" she demanded.

Mulder shook his head and touched her arm carefully. "He's dead," he assured her. "Ran straight at me with your gun. Something drove him insane, Scully. He was always sick, but something pushed him right over the edge. He wasn't anything like the guy we've been after for the past week."

She smiled, just a bit, then sagged as fatigue hit her. "Wanna get outta' here Mulder," she whispered.

He pulled out his cell phone. "Don't worry. I'm going to have the ambulance out here so fast—"

"No." The word was a command. Mulder stared in amazement as she struggled to get to her feet. "I'm gonna' walk outta' here."

"What?" he exclaimed incredulously. "Scully, you've lost a lot of blood. I know you're not thinking too straight right now . . . ." He trailed off at her look.

"I'm the doctor. I c'n do it," she muttered. He tried to object but she cut him off. "Help me up Mulder."

He sighed and held out his hand. She took it with her good arm, biting her lip while he pulled her up as gently as he could. She wobbled on her feet, finally leaning against him. "Let me see," he ordered. She let him take off her overcoat, faintly noticing through her haze that his hands trembled when he touched her blood-soaked clothes. She flinched when he probed the wound.

"Sorry," he muttered, concentrating. "Scully . . . how bad did he get you?"

"Pretty bad." She made a face. "Why?" But he was looking around the forest floor, scanning the leaves. Without warning he ducked down, leaving her teetering for a frightening moment before he popped up again. He held up something using his coat sleeve.

Scully shuddered. It was the knife, stained to the hilt with blood. Her blood. His hazel eyes went from the weapon, to her clothes, to her wound. "Scully," he said slowly. "Look."

She twisted her head to get a good look at her own shoulder. Along with the shredding of her shirt and her red-stained skin was the gash itself. A small gash. She gaped in shock as her doctor's mind told her she wouldn't even need stitches. "Mulder, the knife . . . ."

"I know," he replied. "Come on." He draped her good arm over his shoulder and they started their long hike out of the woods. Scully, concentrating on just taking the next step, failed to notice the thoughtful silence from her partner that meant he was pondering.

"Scully," he ventured after a while. "Are you ever going to tell me what you saw out there?"

"Eventually," she murmured. After a minute of silence, broken only by their stumbling and grunts, she spoke up. "Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this forest part of some sort of protected land?"

He frowned. "I don't know, why?"

"Maybe after we get back we can set up a game reserve or something." He almost stopped, but didn't want to jar his partner in any way. Maybe she hit her head somewhere too.

"Scully?" He asked instead.

"Hmm?"

"You're going to have some explaining to do, eventually."


End file.
